The ocean does have that expansive view that goes somewhere out toward infinity. It accompanies any stroll on a beach. When there is access along a beach as far as my feet might take me, that expansive sense is moved ashore. I remember that in Mexico, strolling along the coast of the Gulf of California. It is desert, so there are many miles where there are no humans, no development, just us.
We are free and alone, safe as far as we see. We take as little as possible to be as naked as possible, surrendered naked in the hands of grace.
We are as naked as the beach is, in touch with every sensation and whim of the natural part of it, the tides, the breeze, the warm sun and vibratory sound of the wave’s crash and the motion against shifting sands.
The shore is often thought of as a boundary, sometimes between countries, sometimes the demarcation of the land and sea. Skin also is thought of that way, the edge of the body, like a castle enclosed in a wall. Clothing holds the gates; it is the walls of protection.
As I walk in the sands near the shoreline, I watch the waves come in, pounding the submissive yet powerful sand, as all shifts. The life, its rhythms, the vibrations are here. Sand changes from soaked with water and back to dry. The sun robs the cool left by the sea and again dries it as the tide ebbs and flows. Sound carries, reflecting changing circumstance. It isn’t a boundary. It is whole and fluid, a copacetic transition.
My stroll in this naked body, not enclosed in its coverings, is warmed. It is also dried, it is cooled, and senses make me aware of the meld and the rapport that this body shares within this world. There isn’t a boundary. There is more to being in this universe and the vibrations have no boundaries.. The cloth boundaries may protect at times, but they shut out a huge part of being.
All is here as one and I am only to observe. This I know because I have torn down the wall of fabric on this beach.
In a season of thanks, I get naked and better feel gratitude.
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